


The Lost

by kate7h



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate7h/pseuds/kate7h
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S3 The children from Woodbury make a bright and wonderful addition to the prison, but Carol can't help but reminiscent her daughter when she sees them. Her and Daryl think on Sophia as they walk the outer perimeter together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this for the USS Caryl fanfiction/fanart challenge for prompt 5.) Caught in the Rain. So yeah, here you go. Carol and Daryl in the rain. Enjoy!

It was hurricane season again. The winds and rains had picked up, whipping her coat around her and smacking her in the face with the fat pellets of precipitation. Carol prayed it wouldn't be a bad one. The tropical storms that had come around and torn the shingles off houses, flooding the streets of the towns as it blew through. They were disastrous in the past world, but now they would be almost annihilating their outside resources. But their prison would stand. It always stood against all odds.

For the time being it was just raining, the wind not so strong as to rip off roofs, but enough nudge her forward as she walked along with it. Carol felt relief just for the day. She watched as her boots squashed into the gravel, the muddy rain water pooling around her feet with each step. Her and Daryl were on perimeter watch, walking it over and over to check for weak points in the fence, take out walkers when they grouped up too large. Their groans and clanging at the fence almost didn't awaken any fear in her anymore, it being a constant sound in the background of her life. They gripped the chains, reaching for them, yearning to tear into their living and bleeding flesh.

Carol grasped her pipe as they began to pile thick along the fence, like bugs on a windshield. She glanced at Daryl to see him unsheathe his own knife. Without anymore hesitation, she thrust the pipe through the fence, splitting the skull of one. It's blood splattered, then oozed onto her weapon. She went again and again and again. Daryl did the same. She felt the all too familiar burn in her muscles. Killing had become so common. Together, they felled the large group of undead and moved on quickly before more could regroup at their living scent. For the moment, quiet rang out as they continued their watch of the perimeter.

"There's more and more of them comin' up to our gates everyday," Carol said, absentmindedly sliding the end of the pipe along in the gravel.

Daryl nodded, rain dripping from his shaggy hair, "Nothin' we can't handle for now."

"It's the 'for now' I'm getting a little worried about," Carol responded, feeling a raindrop roll off her nose.

The crunching of the gravelly mud beneath her feet drew her attention again. Daryl didn't respond to her comment, just went back to perimeter duty. The enlarging groups of walkers at their gates was a worry, in that moment and for the near future. There was no use in denying it, they all knew it.

Clanging above the pelting of the rain brought Carol out of her stupor. Both she and Daryl turned towards the sound. An elderly woman and two of the children were making their way about in the outdoor kitchen area. Carol watched as if in slow motion as the little girl's baby fine blonde hair tossed across her back with the wind. Dull pain throbbed in her as the corners of her mouth reached down into a frown.

"Mommy!" Bare feet scampered up onto the wooden steps, leaving wet marks of a little child's foot with five little toes. The closed porch caught the wind in a draft, whistling softly as if it were singing a sweet melody.

"What is it, Sophia?" Carol leaned forward from her seat on the white wicker bench underneath the window. Seven-year-old Sophia braked her run against her mother's knees, her fine long hair whipping out and around her in the wind.

She shoved her hand into the pocket of her pants, "I found something for you in the garden."

Carol smiled as she folded her hands together in patience.

Sophia checked her other pocket, then her back pockets more frantically. Her smile disappeared as her face became distressed.

"I can't find it!" She shrieked in barely a whisper.

Carol stroked her fingers over Sophia's freckled face, tucking her hair behind her ear, "Whatever it is, we'll find it. Things don't stay lost forever."

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. Daryl had continued to watch as they rifled through the bins, retrieving some item he couldn't see and headed back in.

That hole made itself known in Carol's heart again. Every time the children came into her sight. Of course, she pushed it aside and did her duty. Carried on. She taught them and provided what she could for them with selflessness and efficiency.

But the hole always remained.

It was where her Sophia belonged. The hole that would only be filled by her daughter wrapped up in her arms, warm and safe. Alive. Carol rubbed her hands against her arms, pulling them tighter around herself.

"You cold?" Daryl asked, jarring her from her painful thoughts and memories.

Carol shook her head quickly, "I'm fine. Just-" She cut herself off, letting out a long breath as she looked over to the empty kitchen area. "Just thinkin'"

Daryl followed her gaze to the tarps blowing in the wind and rain. He seen her turn away suddenly from them. The little girl. It wasn't hard to figure out. She got cautious whenever one of those blonde girls were anywhere around her.

Of course, he knew what-who she was thinking about. And, hell, if it didn't make him want to lock himself in his cell and never come back out; he could only imagine what Carol was feeling at that moment. He watched closely as she rubbed her fingers tenderly against her jacket, comforting herself.

Words escaped Daryl as they way too often did. He couldn't speak the words she needed to hear, the words he needed to say. He never could speak those ones. It frustrated him to no end. But neither of them willingly brought up Sophia. The last, most direct conversation about her had been back at the farm the night after she'd died, and it hadn't gone well. Again, his issues with words. And back then, his anger. He'd been such an ass.

Carol turned to him with a frown, her face watery from the rain pouring upon her, "All these kids around. Just thinkin' about how they got here."

She dropped her face to the ground, letting the water drip down, "Did they get lost too?"

All his nightmares came to the forefront of his mind. Sophia. Merle. There didn't need to be any new or abnormal things added in by his subconsciousness, his sleeping mind just made him relive the memories. The barn. The mill. The roof. Daryl felt himself freeze as if the rain drops sliding down the leather of his arms were ice shards.

Carol's words were calm, not an accusation in the slightest, yet Daryl still felt the wrecking ball of fault land squarely against his lungs, crushing the air right out of him. She had told him before that it wasn't his fault, but that didn't stop him from feeling it all the same. And he did. He felt it for Merle's too, though he knew rationally that Merle only ever made his own decisions. Daryl couldn't have done anything. That had become his mantra in regards to Merle.

If Carol was expecting a response, she didn't get one. Daryl had no breath nor will to form one to answer such a question. He just shook his head, folding his trembling hands under each arm.

Carol smiled sadly, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring it up. It hurts you too."

Daryl shrugged, looking away from her, "Talk 'bout her all you want. She's your daughter. You got the right to."

Truth was, it did hurt him. It hurt him more than he could admit. He'd let himself get attached. Losing anyone hurt. Children. Parents. Friends. Sisters. Brothers.

But the words he'd all but screamed in her face on the farm that night were true, at least the one phrase: Sophia wasn't mine. And she hadn't been, not in the slightest. He hadn't even spoken to the kid. Or really even her mother until the girl went missing. Carol had the right to grieve. Hell, she had the right to scream and cry and cuss till she turned blue if it made her feel any better. Apologizing for bringing Sophia up to him, Carol didn't need to do that. Not ever. Not to him. He could take the pain with her. As long as she could take it.

With a small nod, Carol reached over and gently pulled his folded arms apart, ignoring his slight flinch. She grasped his hand in hers, "Thank you, Daryl. For everything."

Daryl stared at her a moment, the deeply bowed his head in response. He lightly squeezed her hand in his.

They held on for a moment, letting the rain pelt against their skin before letting their hands slip apart. Turning to resume their perimeter check, they walked side by side, their elbows barely brushing as they went.

**Author's Note:**

> My original draft kinda a lot different than this, a lot more lovely and happy thoughts from Carol. Then Sophia kinda snuck in... Welp! I hoped you liked it if you got this far! Reviews are wonderful and encouraging
> 
> By the way, sorry about the POV change, Carol started being difficult to write, and for some reason Daryl was cooperating... I hope it wasn't too confusing, I tried to make it clear and flow well.


End file.
